


Of Migraines and Guilt

by Nymphadora23



Series: Kink Meme Prompts [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: And other unnamed nations, Brief alcohol/vomiting at the beginning, Gen, Germany stares into the camera like he's on the office
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 07:24:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6972895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nymphadora23/pseuds/Nymphadora23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Germany is very stressed and America is in the wrong place at the wrong time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Migraines and Guilt

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a kink meme about a year back. I decided to clean it up a bit and post it on here, so hopefully you guys enjoy!
> 
> Prompt: Either America is spouting off annoying ideas or another nation is just in an irritable mood. For whatever reason, Nation A ends up snapping at America and telling him to shut up. America gets very quiet very fast, and spends the next few hours moping around like a kicked puppy, until Nation A realizes America took his words to heart and lets him know he doesn’t hate him.

When it came to world meetings, there were certain things that were almost guaranteed to happen. Britain and France tearing chunks of hair and bloodying clothes, Russia smiling and sitting in a seemingly content daze, America trying to raise his voice above the chaos to put forth some completely asinine idea and, finally, Ludwig himself screaming until his voice teetered on cracking to put an end to it all were some that came to mind. The incidents had become so commonplace they were barely noted apart from an apathetic glance to the fray. When it happened, it was almost like a breather for the parties not involved, giving them a chance to check their emails or stare off into space. Much to Ludwig's annoyance, they used these incidents as an excuse not to do what they were required to do as nations. 

Most of the time, Ludwig could keep his cool and steer the course of conversation back on track. It was easy enough when he reminded himself that lecturing them on how stupid it was to be bickering like children would only spark a fight in of itself and, really, would that get anywhere? He had enough experience dealing with Italy's eccentric attitudes and Gilbert's unpredictability to know how to navigate high tension situations. 

However, Ludwig had suffered a horrible night before the meeting had even begun. To start, Gilbert had thought that getting drunk and calling his brother at 3 AM to drive him home from some bar an hour away was a great idea. It wasn't as if Ludwig needed a full eight hours of rest to even be coherent for meetings such as these, or that Gilbert could easily call a cab. Normally, he would just hang up or tell him to suck it up and get a cab, but if Ludwig didn't pick him up, Gilbert would just skip, and the time sensitive, rule-abiding Ludwig couldn't rest with that. Gilbert was needed to deliver reports for his part of the country and he had been slacking off too much already.

So Ludwig drove, blinking back sleep and fancying lectures he could give to Gilbert for not thinking things through as usual. An hour later, Gilbert was secured in the front seat and Ludwig was ignoring the occasional mumbled German tossed his way. It seemed he was suffering the beginnings of a hangover and Ludwig allowed himself a silent satisfaction. 

Halfway to their shared house, Gilbert threw up onto the gear shift that was positioned between his and Ludwig's seat. This was the very same one that Ludwig had been gripping when the rancid smelling liquid spewed onto his right hand. 

The rest of the drive was spent in stony silence, Ludwig pulling over to wipe his hand off and Gilbert occasionally moaning in pain in the background. 

When they got home, Gilbert immediately vomited again. This time, the sick stained the floor and the toes of their shoes in a messy puddle of bad decisions. Disgruntled and disgusted, Ludwig sent him to his room and got to work cleaning the stain. So help him if Gilbert threw up in his room, he could clean it himself. That and whatever hangover he'd be nursing would be just punishment for this little stunt. Inwardly, though, he couldn't help but feel mild relief that he was not the one to be thrown up on this time.

By the time all was said and done, Ludwig found himself arriving at the meeting with only an hour of sleep under his belt. He had slicked back his hair, did his best to use enough cologne to mask any lingering smells of vomit and sat at his spot, already in a foul mood. He even did his best to dismiss any of the various countries who attempted to spark a conversation with him which, to his relief, wasn't very many. Italy attempted to wrap him into a conversation about how meetings might be more interesting with cats as stress relievers, for instance, but he was too wrapped up in describing this that he didn't notice Ludwig steadfastly tuning him out.

As the meeting began, Ludwig was relieved that nothing too awful had happened yet. They had miraculously gotten through the first quarter with most attention on the speakers. There were a few side conversations here and there, Italy fell asleep around the half hour mark and had to be awoken by Ludwig, but it went well. Then came the first notes of Ludwig's oncoming migraine.

"Are you drinking wine?!" A thick British accent cried out, slicing through the subtle silent haze of the meeting room and cutting off China from his speech. All heads turned to Britain, who was on his feet and waving a black canister in France's face. 

"And how would you know wine when you saw it?" France calmly rebuffed, one delicate eyebrow raised. "I thought the stuffy little man only drank ale."

Britain's eyebrows furrowed, green eyes narrowing as he glared down the other nation. "I am a gentleman, and I wouldn't ruin my tastes with such a ghastly mixture. Of course, you would drink it, you are a man of low class."

By now, most heads had turned away, gazes locked on their smartphones or doodling on the edges of their economy reports. Ludwig cleared his throat and sent the two bickering nations a pointed glare. That was strike one, and it usually deterred people from continuing for twenty minutes or so. However, the two didn't notice as their fight spiraled out of control.

"What did you say about moi?!" France was on his feet now as well, eyes wild as he stared at the snickering nation. "I do not have low class! You simply don't know what's good because you only like what you produce!"

Great, now a fistfight was going to start. Ludwig pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stifle his annoyance before glancing around at the other nations. Why was it that he was the one always having to monitor these things? Did no one else care that they were wasting precious time? No, of course not. And no matter how poor Ludwig felt at that moment, he knew that simply letting the fight continue would only waste more time and make his suffering worse.

"Hey, Germany?" Italy was now tugging at the sleeve of his suit, sleepily smiling at him. "I had a crazy dream just now, and I wanted..."

Ludwig tuned the other out once again, squeezing his eyes tight enough that he was beginning to see stars. Over the throbbing in his brain, he could hear France give a primal shriek, the sounds of a body hitting the floor and Italy mumbling in his ear about something involving all of the nations present turning into cats. This had gone on for more than enough. 

With another, louder clear of his throat, Ludwig stood and sent the fist fighting nations another icy glare before approaching them. The two were completely oblivious as usual, France trying to rip off Britain's cheeks and Britain attempting to bite off a chunk of France's silky hair. With as much casualty as he could muster, Ludwig leaned down and promptly pulled the two apart. Both thrashed under his hands, kicking out on instinct before they stilled and two pairs of apprehensive and a little wary eyes lifted to stare at him.

"Are you about done?" His voice was cold, blue eyes staring down at the two beneath his hold. They frowned, opened their mouths as if to retort before looking away in shame. Ludwig thought the matter was dealt with and straightened. Maybe this would deter other distractions; these two had an annoying habit of constantly detracting from the meeting with their bickering. 

That was when America decided to open his mouth.

"Haha, man, Germany, you looked pissed!" His voice was loud, grating against Ludwig's already grated nerves. Right, America was the exception to that. If it wasn't France and Britain killing each other, it was him bogging the meeting down with stupidity. The younger nation turned to face America, who was now also standing and flashing him his winning smile. "You know, I know a sure fire way to keep these boring things under control!" 

And then came the most stupid idea Ludwig had ever heard. He stuck true to his usual wild and outlandish ideas that would in no shape or form ever work. In hindsight, he supposed that it really wasn't all that different from America's usual "ideas", but Ludwig was feeling irritable; running on one cup of coffee and the stench of vomit coating his nasal passage like lead. 

"Would you shut up!?" 

America froze, mouth open mid-word as he stared. Ludwig would often yell, this was normal. But he had never sounded so angry; it was like the idea was a personal insult. And he didn't stop there, either.

"God! I shouldn't have to sit here and listen to your stupid ideas! Don't you realize they'll never work!? Have you no practical brain cell in your body?!" Ludwig had no concept of what he was saying, the words spilling out faster than his brain could properly process. It was like a faucet had been turned on, unable to stop the word vomit pouring out of his mouth. He was tearing into him with all of the pent up frustration he had bottled away, his fists clenched tightly at his side. 

The lecture only lasted a straight two minutes, but it felt like an eternity to all involved. As the last words of his rant faded and Ludwig got control of his usual sense, he noticed two things.

First, everyone was staring at him with unabashed shock. Second, America wasn't yelling back.

In fact, America hadn't moved from his position, a hand still held up mid-gesture and his mouth still partially open around an unsaid word. Thirty seconds later, his expression crumbled, mouth working noiselessly as he tried to find a way to save face. 

"Uh... W-Well... I...."

That was all anyone heard before America hunched his shoulders, sitting down and looking away.

A flurry of unintelligible murmuring swept through the meeting room, snippets of "Was that really America?" and "Did Germany seriously say all that?" sweeping past Ludwig's sharp ears. Britain and France, who had stood somewhere near the beginning of Ludwig's little tangent, quickly slipped back to their chairs, each exchanging shocked glances.

He could feel guilt beginning to seep into his gut, starting to weigh it down, but Ludwig ignored this. Instead, he put on a calloused front and turned to China calmly, who looked quite awkward and out of place on the podium by himself. "Continue." With that, he sat down.

The meeting went on uninterrupted and stood to be one of the quietest meetings they had experienced in quite awhile. No one dared step out of line, afraid of incurring the same wrath America had suffered. By now, Ludwig was feeling properly guilty and he could feel his head lower each time someone glanced at him. He shouldn't have said all that, America didn't deserve to have received the entire brunt of his annoyance. The urge to apologize came to his mind but Ludwig was hesitant. What good would it do now? They had wasted enough time already without more interruptions happening and Ludwig didn't feel comfortable doing it in front of all nations present. Being vulnerable in front of the likes of Britain or Russia did not sound appealing to him.

It would be much easier for Ludwig to process if America had actually had a reaction. Anger, more obnoxious laughing, hell, even tears were better than this. Instead, America was staring blankly at his papers, sulking like a child who had been spanked. The entire thing confused and unnerved Ludwig and only served to make his guilt worse. 

By the time three hours had passed, it was finally time to break for the day.

Everyone stood, gathering their papers and muttering to each other in their own side conversations. Ludwig stood as well, gathering his papers and relieved that for once Italy had decided to go bother his brother instead of him. As the nations began filing out, Ludwig could see America through the throng, who was slowly gathering his things at a snail's like pace. Once most of the crowd cleared out, Ludwig knew that he needed to ease the guilt eating away at him.

"America." The voice was quiet but firm and America's gaze snapped up to meet his. It wavered for a moment before quickly looking away, toying with the edge of his economy report.

After ten seconds, he finally managed to speak.

"Look, if this is about before, I'm really sorry." The other started, looking back at Ludwig. He blinked once, then twice, wondering if he heard right. Was America apologizing? Ludwig's eyebrows raised, staring at the nation who was looking more vulnerable than Ludwig had seen in quite awhile.

"It was stupid, I know, but I just wanted to help out... And I was sitting there, thinking to myself about how stupid it was, but like the idiot I am I opened my mouth and..." Here he trailed off, biting his lip and scratching the back of his neck. "God, I mean, I didn't think I'd offend you..."

Finally finding his words, Ludwig raised a hand. "You didn't, and it should be me apologizing." It was now his turn to look embarrassed, but he forced himself not to fidget. It was a nasty habit that drove him insane. 

America looked up and blinked, surprise written all over his features. "Seriously?" 

Ludwig nodded. "I was out of line. I shouldn't have said anything."

America's gaze lowered, eyebrows creasing as he tried to make sense of Ludwig's words. Ludwig waited patiently, clasping his hands behind his back. 

After a long moment, America opened his mouth once more. "It's okay man... I mean, shit... It's fine. We're cool." A small little smile replaced the frown that had sat on the North American's face for the past few hours. "But I do have more ideas. Good ones this time. If...If you wanna hear 'em, I mean..."

Ludwig frowned, having a feeling he was going to regret it, but he eventually caved. And while most of America's ideas were still outlandish and odd, Ludwig found he didn't mind anymore.


End file.
